A gang of guffawing racists burn a cardboard replica of the Grenfell Tower, complete with nudge-nudge-wink-wink brown cardboard victims. Recently, too, a woman bludgeoned and battered by a dozen-strong mob for the crime of speaking Spanish. Muslim women on public transport with niqabs and hijabs ripped from them; spat upon, punched, beaten. Christ, Katie Hopkins even published demands in a national tabloid calling fellow human beings “cockroaches” and urging naval guns mow down drowning immigrants. And didn’t get prosecuted. This is where we’re at – race-hate and literal incitement to commit a crime against humanity and no criminal conviction ensues.

All enabled by the ‘hostile environment’ and decades of utter hate, lies and poison about immigrants, refugees, Muslims, foreigners and the poor. Meanwhile, the real residents of Grenfell Tower – a place where class and race really do intersect – either burned to death or are still homeless while their arsonists remain free and at large. In government and the institutions of the state. While faking outrage at their white-trash bonfire tribute act.

Object to this, though, and the racist mob pile on calling you a ‘snowflake.’ While bigots without a shred of basic, human decency whine about their free speech. As if their freedom to hate, to bully, to intimidate should provoke no consequences. As if anyone objecting isn’t entitled to use their free speech in a vain attempt to stem the rising tide of inhumanity swamping cruel Britannia.

Foam-flecked proto-fascists get all misty-eyed about a piece of cloth, as long as it’s red, white and blue. They’ll swallow lumps in their throats while growing positively tumescent at the sight of a Brit soldier with a gun but empathy? Compassion? Genuine humanity for a non-white human being? Someone poor and desperate? Vulnerable? Terrified?
Not.
A.
Fucking.
Drop.

They contemptuously dismiss the outcry as ‘moral outrage’ while furiously triggering at a footballer, an Irish footballer, no less, refusing to wear a poppy. Snowflakes, indeed…

We need more moral outrage about the institutionalised hate of non-white, non-British human beings and the forgotten and despised on working-class estates all over the UK. And we need absolutely none about poppies, flags and nations.

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The tyranny of neoliberalism in the 21st century, reimagined as ‘entertainment.’ Or, perhaps, a post-modernist take on the scraps between lions and Christians. Closer, though, to some Orwellian dystopia only not in the future but now. This is real life, baby.

You worthless piece of shit. You can’t make money? Fuck you. You can’t make me richer than I already am? Fuck you. You can’t demonstrate the necessary soullessness, the required absence of morality, the mandatory predatory greed? Fuck. You.

And you, dear viewer, if you think the gloating and mean-spirited thrills that run up and down the place where your spine ought to be are grotesque, misplaced and fucking deviant, then there’s no place for you here. Fill your fucking face with fucking food and glug the fucking wine as you thrill to someone losing their job. Cultural values reinforced. The consensus cemented. Tomorrow you can sniff disdainfully as nurses cry in the face of poverty. Get a better fucking job! Start your own business! I did! I hauled myself up and made a success of myself! Look at my fucking wad! Look at my fucking car! Look at my fucking house! Look at me!

If you ever worried, deep into the night, about how the roof over your children’s heads was gonna stay in place, fuck you. If you sweated out the money, only to find too much month left at the end of it, fuck you. The only thing worse than having a job is not having one, right?

Like Charlie said, “How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?” And they sell that you as a dream! Via your TV. The only thing worthwhile to which humanity should aspire.

Fuck your dreams, fuck your hopes, fuck your humanity. If you’ve got any left. The only measure of success, the only barometer of worth, the only gauge of merit is money. It’s all about the money, money, money.

A third-rate fucking spiv, a smug obscenity, more walnut than human, mostly famous for giving the world the worst fucking stereos ever invented, a Lord, no less, will sit in judgment and tell you what’s what. He’ll rubbish a man who spent his entire life trying to better the lives of others while he spent his exploiting, sneering, oppressing. But you know what’s what, don’t you? – money, motherfucker. That’s all the motherfucker cares about. More money, motherfucker. More motherfucking money, motherfuckers.

Fuck you, you fucking fuck. You’re fired.

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I try, wherever possible, to avoid Julia Hartley-Brewer. Dubbed the Waitrose Katie Hopkins by Stevie Chick, she – like Andrew Pierce – arouses in me a disgust and loathing that is nothing less than pathological.

I recall watching her on Sky News, discussing Trump and Jerusalem last December. The woman’s grasp of the complexities, her insight into the motivations of the key players and her understanding of the historical processes didn’t even rise to the status of non-existent.

A vacuous posho with the requisite fake expression of concern, she couldn’t disguise the gaping chasm where empathy should live. If a genuinely perceptive thought ever found its way into the limitless abyss between her ears, it’d die of fucking loneliness.

Then there was the time she compared the liberal left’s Milky Bar Kid, Owen Jones, to Islamic State.

And so to her latest noxious emission, on Talk Radio, where she blames parents for child poverty. “There are millions of people living on very low incomes and we haven’t got millions of children going hungry without proper shoes or uniform and the like, does it not suggest this is more a failure of parenting? If you’ve got two families both on the same low income… if one family has managed to send their child to school with a bowl of cereal or piece of toast in them and in clean laundered clothes and the other family isn’t, it can’t be about the money can it?”

Julia, you privileged pontificator, you are so far removed from the grinding misery and shame of poverty-blighted parents you can afford to sneer in their faces from the comfort of your media platform. Millions of working-class women who, overwhelmingly, bear the brunt of the Tories’ vicious class spite, are making themselves ill; physically and mentally, to shield their children from the deprivation thrust upon them. You are unfit to even speak of these heroic, determined and infinitely selfless women. They are amongst the best humankind has to offer. You, by contrast, are devoid of all moral worth.

You are reduced to excusing a vicious anti-working class government. Your contempt, your disdain, your utter disinterest where the victims of your beloved Tories are concerned is nauseating. Thick and pitiless; a combo as dangerous as it is contemptible.

If I were you, I’d tell your mam you’re the piano player in a brothel; it’s an occupation with more dignity, more integrity and certainly more humanity than being Julia Hartley-Brewer.

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Murder, mass murder, is nothing new for the Israeli Defence Force, sickeningly dubbed “the most moral army in the world” by former British Army Colonel, Richard Kemp. One would imagine this description would be difficult to reconcile with yesterday’s slaughter. Fortunately, the combined forces of the British Broadcasting Corporation and the Board of Deputies of British Jews were on hand to render assistance to the IDF.

The BBC tweeted and ran headlines on its website that spoke of “clashes” and “deadly protests.” As if the massacre of unarmed civilians clad in jeans, t-shirts, trainers and flags by soldiers of one of the most heavily-armed and well-equipped militias in the world was a spat amongst equals; as if the blame and responsibility were to be equally distributed between the two sides. As the BBC evidently struggles with accuracy, it’s worth pointing out that the protest wasn’t “deadly”. The protest was peaceful. What was deadly, however, were the sniper bullets and tank shells (yes, really) fired on the protesters. In one instance, into the back of an unarmed and fleeing youth.

The Board of Deputies, shamefully, went even further. In a grotesque and obscene display of victim-blaming, the Board tweeted, “Alarming developments at Gaza border as Hamas once again using its civilians – inc children – as pawns.” Apart from being a lie – Hamas did no such thing – to blame oppressed and subjugated people for provoking the bullets fired by their murderers is unconscionable to anyone with aspirations to humanity and decency. Still, from an organisation that fawned and gushed over arch racist Donald Trump, decency would be an unrealistic expectation.

The Board’s Twitter feed was soon filled with outraged Tweets from those it claims to represent. This, from @msjenifferjames, was typical: “Repulsive comment. How dare you blame unarmed, peacefully-protesting Arabs for their own deaths by Israeli gunfire? On their own land. You do not and will never speak for me or thousands of other Jewish people. You are disgusting.”

Were all this not sufficiently appalling, a now deleted Tweet by the IDF implies that these murders were premeditated, pre-planned and carried out, not as reaction to Palestinian ‘violence’, but as a proactive military operation.

Now is the time to underline some unshakeable truths. The residents, or rather prisoners, of the Gaza strip are waging a life and death struggle that transcends even national liberation; they are concerned with simply survival. In such a case there is no ‘plague on both your houses’ option available. There is no moral equivalency between a mighty military power invading and then subjugating a poverty-stricken and oppressed people. People who are desperately fighting for their lives and the very existence of the miserable 32-mile strip of open-air prison they call home. There is no quandary, no grey area and no ambiguity; Israel is the aggressor. The Palestinians are the victims. We should unconditionally, unquestioningly and unequivocally support their resistance and right to defend themselves in any way they see fit. Rockets into Israel are the legitimate and just resistance of a desperate people.

Palestinian violence is not terrorism. Israel illegally occupies Palestinian land and visits human rights abuses and war crimes upon the Palestinian people. Any violence by any Palestinian body or person, is justified and permitted under international law. It is not terrorism; it is resistance to an invader.

There is the violence of the oppressor – Israel – and there is the violence of the oppressed; the Palestinians. The former is immoral, illegitimate and illegal while the latter is not only moral and legitimate but unavoidable and necessary. Self-defence is never an offence.

When the riots start be careful not to get trampled underfoot as liberals and reactionaries alike bolt for the moral high-ground. Watch out for the pious; the sanctimonious; the mealy-mouthed; the people who always see unruly protest as something worse than the injustice, the oppression, the social cleansing that triggered it.

Remind them that the freedom to voice their bourgeois indignation, along with the freedom to vote, to control their own fertility, to protest, to join a trade union, to have Saturday and Sunday off work, to even get paid for work and a great deal more, were only won by centuries of often violent struggle. They give us nothing but that which we take.

Riots are the final resort of the marginalised and disenfranchised. There can be no condemnation by anyone aspiring to humanity.

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Dorset Eye currently have a thread on lowering the voting age to 16, on their page, which is worth your time. I was thinking about this as I pulled into Beaconsfield services, earlier today. Where, lo and behold, a toxin of Tories at an adjacent table were discussing that very thing.

The fella at the next table, I subsequently learned, was a visitor to our septic isle and he, like me, shuddered at their discourse. These specimens were The Daily Mail made flesh. Comprising, in the main, perpetually resentful snobs and narrow-minded dullards; terrified some smelly poor person might obtain something they shouldn’t.

They were appalled even at the possibility of a refugee child making it into the country and putting non-existent pressure on the services their party consistently hack to bits anyway. And then reaching the age of 16 and voting for ‘the loony lefties.’

“They shouldn’t be allowed a vote until they’ve done a stint in the army,” responded another.

“Sshhh, you can’t say that!” belatedly cautioned a third.

“Damn their bloody political correctness, I’ll still call a spade a spade,” retorted the first, while sniggering at his ‘pun.’

Their sense of entitlement and cognitive dissonance were at virtually epidemic levels. So, too, was the absence of anything resembling empathy. As I politely interjected to inform them. Along with a couple of other succintly articulated observations…

The point? Only that there are no teens I can even imagine who would be less qualified to make a rational political decision than these grotesque parodies of humanity.

These grasping, hate-filled simpletons; these vacuous, bitter racists masquerading as sentient adults; these greedy, pitiless things are going to kill your future stone-cold dead on Thursday, kids. If you let them. You know what you have to do…

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The Tories are great at selling arms to, and funding, terrorists, aren’t they? But they’re clearly dreadful at fighting them. Basically.

I mean, if I ever needed someone to sell some guns and bombs for me to, say, a barbaric medieval regime, who funds and arms Islamic State, then I’d be all “Yes, Tories! I need Tories! Those guys really know how to get the job done.”

If, on the other hand, I wanted someone to fight terrorists; someone who wouldn’t, for example, recruit a fundamentalist zealot to fight Gaddaffi, pay for his family to settle in the UK and then let his son go to terrorist training camps in Libya and then go on to bomb the Manchester Arena, then I’d look elsewhere.